Conrad Warrington
by The Hogwarts Society
Summary: This is going to be Conrad Warrington's best year. After all, he's captain of the quidditch team, a pureblood (in Slytherin, of course), and now that he's of age, he won't have to steal his firewhiskey anymore. What's to stop him, other than that small thing called a conscience? by Katie W
1. Chapter 1

This is one in a series of books all taking place at the same time but from different POV's.

Disclaimer: Obviously not JKR.

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The girl beneath me giggled, an obnoxious noise but one that I had long since inured myself to. I winked at her before scrambling to my feet with a loud apology for my parents' sake.

She giggled again and stuck out a hand, sliding just a tad too close to me. "I should have been looking where I was going," she said, opening her overly-made-up eyes innocently. "I'm Carol, by the way. Carol Jones."

"Conrad Warrington," I said, taking her hand and flashing her my best smile.

"Warrington?" she said, faking a look of surprise. She cast a quick glance at my parents. They were standing there in their typical fashion, looking distinctly out place even in muggle clothes. Both were glaring at me, clearly wondering why I was talking to this girl. "I didn't know the Warringtons had a son."

"I go to boarding school," I explained. "It's very small, very elite. In Scotland." Girls lap that sort of rubbish up.

Right on cue, my mother was there at my shoulder, taking my arm with that plastic smile and saying, "You'll have to excuse us, Carol. We've a family dinner we must be going to."

"Of course," Carol said, simpering just a little. I grimaced an apology at her as my mother pulled me away. Somehow I thought she was going to be the most this summer had to offer. Not much, but then, I couldn't really afford to be picky.

I didn't see Carol for another two weeks. I'd say I thought of her, but the truth is that other than catching one glimpse of her, she never crossed my mind. No, I was occupied with more important things.

"Of course you'll be made quidditch captain," Paule told me. I was lounging on my bed, staring at my ceiling, with an illicit muggle cell phone against my ear. If my father saw me, he'd have a fit, but what was I supposed to do? Wait a week for owl travel time every time I wanted to talk to my friends?

"Griffin might be," I said, mainly just to be contrary. "Or maybe Lucas." Yeah, right. Like either of them had my talent.

"We all know Nott liked you best," Paule said. "You were practically co-captains last year."

But even quidditch took second place to the real gem of our summers - our retreat. It was a Tradition with a capital T, born of summers with nothing to do and no one to see. When we were little, getting time to ourselves hadn't really been a problem. But we hadn't been us - hadn't been the Quartet - then. We all knew each other, of course, (who doesn't know us?) but we hadn't really solidified into anything you could call friendship until we got to Hogwarts. But since that first day, when we were all sorted into Slytherin and realized just how far that great house had fallen, we had been inseparable. Except for summer.

Hence the retreat. For one glorious week, it was just us. Me, Lucas, Griffin, and Paule. No parents, no teachers, no muggles, no rules. Just us. We buried ourselves deep in the woods and partied until we dropped. It was the only time we really get to be ourselves, the only time we can get away from our stupid parents.

"Conrad?" My darling mother poked her head into my bedroom. "Dearest, we just got the invitation to the Ministry gala. Do you want to come?"

I considered. The gala had to be one of the most boring social events the world had ever witnessed, but at least it was something. Then again, with my parents out of the house there was nothing to stop me from sneaking out. "Nah," I said. "I think I'll stay here."

"All right," she said, just like always. "All right" to me staying home. "All right" to my OWL scores. "All right" to my father saying he has to work late, then showing up the next morning drunk and smelling like another woman's perfume. "All right" this and "all right" that. It got on my nerves sometimes, but it did come in handy from time to time. "Would you get dressed? We have to leave for dinner in about an hour."

"Dinner?" I frowned. "Where are we going?"

"The Joneses invited us over for dinner," she said. Great. And no one had bothered to tell me, of course. At least Carol would be there.

Thinking about Carol reminded me of how long it had been since I had had human contact. Real humans, I mean, not my parents. I had talked with Paule, of course, and a little with Griffin and Lucas, but I hadn't actually seen any of them face to face. A smile slid onto my face as I began to consider what this night could bring.

An hour later I was wishing I had said I had dragon pox or something, anything, that would have gotten me out of there. Mr. and Mrs. Jones were your stereotypical muggles, talking about nothing but their work at some law firm or another. My esteemed parents were sitting their spewing the same nonsense. I didn't understand how they could put up with it.

And Carol. Don't even get me started on Carol. Sure, she was pretty enough, but didn't she have any pride? She was literally throwing herself at me! As if I would ever be interested in a _muggle_. She was sitting next to me - not by accident - and was continually finding ways to touch me. That included spilling her drink all over me.

"Ohmigod I am so sorry!" she cried as I leapt to my feet, cringing as I tried to wring the stupid fizzy muggle drink out of my shirt. "Here, let me help." Her hands wandered more than strictly necessary as she "helped" me clean my shirt. Up close, I could see exactly how much makeup she was wearing, and I had to admit it was impressive.

A plan began to form in my head, a plan that would entertain me for the rest of my time in this hellhole and teach Carol a quick lesson. And so I smirked at her and pulled away just ever-so-slightly. "It's fine," I said, and pulled the shirt off. I could feel her swoon next to me, and my smirk grew. Maybe this could be fun.

The rest of dinner passed without comment. The only change was that I was now responding to Carol's advances with as much force as I could muster. While my parents did their best to seem oblivious (and very clearly wanting to just get home as soon as they possibly could) Carol's mum seemed to positively delight in our flirting.

"Carol, honey, why don't you show Conrad around the house?" she said after dinner, flashing me a conspiratorial wink. "We just redid upstairs and it looks _amazing_, if I do say so myself," she added for my parents' benefit.

My mother caught my eye and shot me a warning look. "I would be delighted to see it," I said, turning away from her so I was facing Carol. As usual, she was right next to me.

"C'mon!" she cried, giggling like mad as she pulled me out of the dining room. "Ohmigod, I am _so_ glad to be out of there. Parents are _so _boring, don't you think?" Without waiting for a response, she grabbed my arm and yanked me up the stairs. "This is my bedroom," she said, grinning as she opened the door.

"Nice," I said, pulling my arm away. Her bedroom? Honestly? Could she get any more stereotypical? Merlin.

"Isn't it?" she said, pulling the door closed behind us. Oh my Merlin, she was going to do this now. NOW. What a slut.

If she hadn't been a muggle, maybe I would have gone along with it. If she had taken things slower, if there had been any other girls around, if she had been more attractive, or less obvious, or a better kisser - if (as my parents were to later scream at me) I just had thought for a moment, maybe I would have let it slide. Instead, as she grabbed my shirt (I knew those muggle clothes would be bad luck) and pressed her mouth against mine, all I could think of was how much muggle filth was getting over me, contaminating me. I shoved her away in disgust, a blind rage taking hold of me.

"You filthy muggle slut," I snarled. "How _dare_ you!" I raised a hand and she cowered away from me. I reached for my wand, so caught up in punishing that slut that I didn't notice that the door had opened behind me until my wand flew out of my hand. I whirled to find my father standing in the doorway.

He raised his wand once and pointed it straight at The Slut. For one blissful moment, I dared to hope that he would hex the guts out of her. But this was my father we were talking about and so of course no such thing happened. Instead of screaming "Sectumsempra!" he simply said in that flat, no-nonsense voice of his, "Obliviate." The Slut's eyes clouded over and my father pulled me out of the room.

He didn't say anything to me, either then or later. Not that I would have listened, anyway. Instead, I was simply grounded until the retreat. I shrugged and figured it would blow over. It wasn't like I had anywhere to go, anyway.

It's funny to think that it might have blown over, that it could have just been a little blip in an endlessly boring summer. But of course it couldn't be that easy.

The next night, after my parents were asleep, I snuck out of the house (I learned a way to evade grounding spells _years_ ago) and headed down to the street towards the Leaky Cauldron. It was (as always) filled to the brim with muggle-loving propaganda and fools, but it had alcohol and really, what else mattered?

I wasn't drunk when I made my way home; I would swear that up and down in the following days. I had been drinking, yes, but I wasn't drunk enough that I didn't know trouble when I saw it. Or rather, I wasn't so drunk I couldn't recognize The Slut.

The sun was just beginning to rise when I saw her, jogging along the street. JOGGING. Who does that? And she couldn't be wearing normal jogging clothes (whatever those may be) could she? Of course not. Instead, she was wearing nothing but a sports bra and something that couldn't even be called a skirt. Had it been another girl, I would have enjoyed the view. But even drunk – no, not drunk, just a little tipsy - I knew that I hated this girl.

At first I was going to ignore her. I even crossed the street. But then she caught sight of me and smiled. SMILED. Who the hell did she think she was, smiling at me?

"Conrad!" she trilled, crossing the street to meet me. "Hi! How are you? I've been wanting to talk to you again for _so _long. It's so boring around here, isn't it?" Her body was warm against mine in the cool morning air.

I nodded stiffly and began to make my way past her. But then I realized: it was the middle of the night. No one was around. I could do what I liked, punish her how she deserved…I could do anything I wanted.

And so, when she kissed me again I pulled her close, letting her think for a moment that she had won. And then I shoved her away and drew my wand. "You stupid muggle whore," I whispered. "What the fuck made you think that you would ever have a chance with me?" She just whimpered.

A strange sense of peace fell over me as I stared down at her. I raised my wand and felt power rising through me, a dark and addictive power that I hadn't used in so long. It guided me, pushing one particular spell to the front of my mind. A smile – a real smile, not the fake sort I tended to use – slid onto my face as I made a sudden slashing movement with my wand. The Slut cried out as a jet of purple light hit her, and then all was still.

I put my wand back in my pocket and sauntered away. There would be hell to pay when my parents found out, of course, but I wasn't bothered with that then. In just over 24 hours I would be far away, in a little hut by the sea where nothing could bother me. I laughed then, a sound that didn't often come from my lips.

I couldn't go home, I realized about half a block later. There was no fucking way I was going home, not after this. My parents would have a fit. They might even try to keep me from the retreat. No, I was most certainly not going home.

It was freeing, the thought that I had no home to go to. I was of age, wasn't I? I could do whatever the hell I wanted. And so I turned around and passed by The Slut's inanimate body without a glance as I made my way back to the Leaky Cauldron.

It wasn't easy to convince the landlady to let me stay. She obviously thought I was a drunk runaway. Please. I am way classier than that. In the end, though, it was only because Professor Longbottom vouched for me that I got to stay. I heard them debating it as I went upstairs, so I yelled, "It's only one fucking night!" over my shoulder.

I woke up the next morning – technically later that morning - with a pounding headache. I lay in bed – not my bed, I noticed in a detached sort of way – as my mind ran over the previous night.

I remembered sneaking out quite clearly. Also clear was the sense of power I had felt as I looked down at The Slut's broken body. I smiled for a long moment at the memory, before other, less cheerful thoughts intruded.

I had used the Dolohov. It was a spell left over from the Second Wizarding War, one that our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, a muggle-loving bloke named Chambers, had warned us about. "This spell was a favorite of Antonin Dolohov. The first recorded use was at the Battle of the Ministry in 1996, when he used it against Hermione Granger. Luckily for her, he was forced to cast it non-verbally. Had that not been the case, it is likely she would have died." Good riddance.

But the fact that Dolohov cast it nonverbally, both then and the other times he had used it, meant that no one remembered the incantation. For a promising young wizard like myself, it was only a matter of time before such a mystery drew me in. I spent weeks in the library (much to the amusement of my friends) researching the curse. And finally, near the end of the last year, I had found it.

The Slut was the first one I had used it on, and while I wished it had been a worthier victim, I was quite pleased with the result. It was the most complex Dark spell I had tried, and it had worked perfectly. I sort of hoped she was dead, though the fact that I had forgotten to speak probably meant that she wasn't. Maybe it was for the best. Azkaban didn't sound like fun.

I dug through my pockets, wondering idly how much money I had with me. I found about 20 galleons, enough to either pay for my room at the Leaky, or to buy me some liquor to take to the retreat. It wasn't even a choice.

I was gone from the Leaky by noon, which wasn't bad for someone with a hangover. I swear the entire pub was filled with redheads I left. Blood-traitor scum. Just because they helped defeat the Dark Lord, they think they're so great. I think I even saw the Minister of Magic as I left. He was discussing goblins with an old man (whose gray hair still had traces of red, of course) and the landlady when I left. Honestly, what has the world come to? Talking about serious policy with some half-blood landlady.

I spent the rest of the day meandering around London, making sure to keep clear of anywhere my parents would think to look. If I knew them, they would be furious with me, but not so crazed that they would report me to the Ministry. It wasn't like they cared about those laws against Dark Magic either; they just didn't want me tainting the family name. Really, it would be rather hypocritical of them to punish me. It was just one muggle girl, after all. What does the world care if there's one less slut on the planet? I hadn't done anything wrong.

About three o'clock in the afternoon, I realized that I had one more night before the retreat started. I couldn't go back to the Leaky (and honestly, why would I want to stay with that scum?) and I only had about three galleons left. I decided to risk sneaking back into my parents' house to grab some clothes, maybe around one in the morning. I knew a club I could hang out at until then. Afterwards, well, there was a nice little inn down in Knockturn Alley that could be very discreet if you had the cash.

I was able to get in and out of my parents' house, no problem. Their security system is truly pathetic. I raided their safe before I left, figuring that they owed me since if they hadn't moved here, I never would have come across The Slut and wouldn't be in this mess.

The next morning, I rolled out of bed around one and instantly felt better. It was the retreat. Tradition. Easy. Just me, Griffin, Paule, and Lucas with lots of firewhiskey and no supervision. Exactly what I needed. Merlin, would Griffin and I have a good laugh over what happened with The Slut. Maybe that would shut up the little voices in my head telling me that maybe this wasn't the smartest thing I had ever done.

The moment I arrived at the little cottage by the sea, I felt better. You know how people were always going on about how Hogwarts was their true home? Hogwarts sucked. If I wanted to be sentimental, I'd say that that cottage was my home. It was certainly the only place I ever got any peace.

I grinned as I pushed open the door to the cottage. Paule and Griffin were there, talking about something or another. It didn't matter. "Hope you all haven't been waiting long!"

Paule smiled and Griffin came up and threw an arm around me. "Good to see you, mate."

"Merlin's beard, have I missed this place," I said, throwing my backpack down and flopping into a chair. "What's up with all of you?"

"Not much," Paule said. "Just more of the same."

"Where's Lucas?" I asked.

"Upstairs," Paule said. There was a look in her eyes like she knew something I didn't. I was about to call her on it when she hollered, "Lucas? Conrad is here!"

"Okay!" he called back. "I'll be right out."

A moment later he was standing in the doorway, but he wasn't alone. The Nott girl – what's her face, Ava? – was behind him. My jaw clenched. What the hell was he thinking, bringing her here? This was our spot. Our retreat. Her hair, usually in neat plait, was all mussed. Was it my fate to be haunted by whores?

"Hello, Nott," I said, gritting my teeth. "Are you staying the whole week?" Please let her be going away later today, please let her be going away later today.

"Lucas invited me," she said saucily. Slut.

"Oh, how thoughtful!" I turned to Lucas, who looked a little scared. Good. "You decided to bring a girl for you to shag on our retreat?"

"Yes, I did," he shot back. "I can do what I want, Warrington." Ooooh, surnames. Fun.

"Of course you can," I snapped at him. "You're Lucas Bloody Malfoy, aren't you? Think you're so much better than us just because your grandfather's all buddy-buddy with the Ministry?"

"Oh, bugger off," he said. "Just because you can't get a girl."

I smirked. "Oh, I can't, can I? Who was it that Gwyneth Harper cheated on you with again? That's right. Me. Even Harper couldn't tolerate you."

"You bastard," he snarled at me.

I had to laugh. "You bring your slut to our retreat and I'm the bastard? Look in the mirror,

Malfoy. You fucking arsehole, what the hell were you thinking, bringing her here?"

"Keep your nose out of my business, Warrington!"

"YOUR business? This is OUR retreat, Malfoy. OURS! The one fucking place in the world where I can get some peace. Get your damn slut out of here."

He swung his arm at me, but I ducked easily, my own fist shooting out to catch him in the stomach. I felt that same sense of power rising in me as I pummeled him.

Too soon, it was over. There was a loud bang, and we fell apart, Paule standing over us. "Let's talk about this like rational people," she said. "It's not like he brought a mudblood into the house."

I snorted and nodded. Thank Merlin for that.

Lucas staggered to his feet, doubled over in pain. Good. Bastard deserves it. "Come on mate," he gasped. "It's not a big deal."

"Not a big deal?" I couldn't believe this. Had the whole world gone mad? "This is tradition! Next thing we know, you could be with a _muggle_." I spat the last word.

"Was that necessary?" Paule whined. "It's kind of disgusting." I ignored her. If she felt spitting was so disgusting, what did she think of Nott, who was obviously twenty times worse?

And then the little slut herself spoke. "I didn't know. I swear. He just told me I could come."

As if. "To hell you didn't know. Of course you knew!" How could she not know? What was she, blind and deaf? "As if you haven't heard of our retreats. As if you weren't jealous and wanted to feel exclusive." The bitch probably just wanted something to brag about at school. I could see it clearly, her giggling with her friends and saying, "Oh, yes, I was with Malfoy at his retreat. He invited me, special." Again I say: slut.

"I can leave," she offered halfheartedly.

"Yes, you can," I agreed. Sooner rather than later, preferably.

Lucas reached for her, soiling her shirt. She cringed away and I scoffed. Of course she would only care about her clothes. "No, you don't have to leave."

"Yes, she does," I said, about an instant away from beating the shit out of Lucas again.

"Why don't we compromise?" Paule said with an over bright smile, stepping forward. I glared at her. Compromise? On this? Did nobody have a sense of tradition anymore? She just smirked. "Well, if we don't, then I say all three of you leave since this is not how our retreats are supposed to work." Amen to that. But why the hell should I have to leave? This was all Lucas' fault. And Nott's. "Griffin and I will have a lovely time without the rest of you."

She was serious, wasn't she. Merlin's beard, she actually meant it. She would make me leave if I made the slut go. Bitch. What happened to friendship?

I glanced at Lucas – a mistake. He was smirking, smugness radiating from him.

"No, no, no," Nott insisted in her annoying little voice. "I can leave." What an angel.

Fuck it all. Lucas had won. I managed to force a smile. "It's alright. Lucas can keep his shag buddy." I couldn't stand this one moment longer. This was supposed to be my sanity time. How did it end up like this? I left and locked myself in my room.

Over the next few days, I found myself spending a lot of time with Griffin – more time than is normal, that is. I was still mad at Paule for letting Nott stay, though that was nothing to what I wanted to do to Lucas. He passed up no opportunity to rub Nott's presence in my face. It was infuriating. And there was nothing I could do about it.

Then, one night as Griffin and I sat talking, I had a brilliant idea. "You should bring someone!" How had I not thought of that before? "Someone to spite him."

"Why don't you?" he asked. I sighed. Merlin, I wished I could. But since The Slut Incident, I wasn't really comfortable leaving the cabin. Not that I was scared or anything, I just didn't want to risk running into my parents. I told Griffin as much. He was the only one I had talked to about it. I knew he, of all people, wouldn't judge me or betray me or anything.

He nodded. "I get it, mate." Thank Salazar someone did.

I returned to the problem at hand. "You could bring that Harper girl. She's a good shag," I said, remembering the brief period of time I had dated her. "Or the Gold girl." A thought occurred to me and I grinned. "Better yet, one of the Woods! That would really get on Malfoy's nerves."

"As if I would ever do anything with either of them." The very thought made him laugh.

"Well, Malfoy needn't know you didn't do anything." I could picture his face if Griffin showed up with one of them. The Ravenclaw one, maybe. The one my dear cousin Abigail was friends with. That would make up for everything.

"They wouldn't agree anyway," Griffin said.

"Think about it," I said. He could convince them if he wanted to. Who wouldn't want to come to our retreat? Maybe he could even bring both of them. It would be the perfect revenge.

He just shrugged and got to his feet. "I'd best be going." He was on his way to the Wood's house for dinner. Though I would miss him, I was glad my family wasn't the only psycho one. But Agrippa, it was going to be a long few hours while he was gone.

I spent most of the time with Paule, who had made it clear very early on that we would not talk about Nott. Instead, we talked about the things that normally occupied our retreats. We complained about our parents, she filled me in on all the Hogwarts dirt, and we mocked the Ministry. Just like normal.

As the night wore on, we decided to head down to the beach. It was a nice night but not quite warm enough for swimming, much to my chagrin. Lucas caught up to us just as we were leaving.

"Where's your shagging buddy?" I asked him coolly.

He rolled his eyes. "Merlin's beard, Conrad, can't you just grow up and get over that?"

I raised an eyebrow, something I had spent the most boring parts of my summer perfecting. "You brought a girl to our retreat, Malfoy. A _girl_."

"I'm a girl," Paule said inconsequentially. I ignored her.

"Look, I'm sorry, okay?" Lucas said. "But she's here now, there's nothing you can do about it. Just accept it and move on!"

I snorted. "The day I accept her is the day you stop being a bastard. Which will never happen." I turned and marched back towards, the house, where I saw Griffin talking to Nott.

"You're back!" I cried with joy. My relief at seeing him there eclipsed my annoyance at him for talking with her.

Lucas moved forward and drew Nott away from him. Paule moved to take her place, and I wondered for a moment if there could be anything there. I hoped not. Paule and I had dated for about three hours in 5th year before realizing how incredibly awkward it was. Besides, Griffin could do better than her.

"We can still do the bonfire," Griffin suggested, and I lit up. The bonfire was one of my favorite parts of the retreat. Just the fire, the four of us, the firewhiskey, and maybe some chocolate.

"That would be brill," I said with a grin.

"Lucas!" Paule called after him. He was trying to sneak upstairs with Nott. They were always sneaking off, rubbing her presence in our faces. I noticed Griffin had come back alone. "Before you go off to shag your girlfriend, we're doing the bonfire."

"She can't come," I said instantly. There was no way she could come. Surprisingly, Lucas agreed. Nott didn't complain either. Finally, something was going right.

An hour later, it was as if Nott had never existed. We passed the firewhiskey I had brought around (Paule almost cried in relief when she saw it – apparently her parents all had started cracking down on her alcohol consumption) and interrogated each other about our summers.

"Did you guys hear about that brawl at the Leaky?" Lucas asked.

"No," I said, leaning forward. "The Leaky Cauldron, doing something wrong? Who would have believed it!"

He laughed. "It was fantastic. Some bloke – the Junior Undersecretary to the Minster or something – some Ministry nutcase – said something about Death Eater sprawn." We all shuddered. It was a rather touchy term, considering our ancestry. "So then this friend of his – or I dunno if they're actually friends but they were eating together – takes offense and they start arguing. The landlady – did you know she was Longbottom's wife, by the way?"

Griffin snorted. "Makes sense."

"Oh, yeah," I said, remembering. "I saw him there with her one night." Griffin looked at me pointedly, clearly remembering why I was at the Leaky. I ignored him. If this week had taught me anything, it was that I couldn't trust Lucas and Paule, not with the important stuff. They had betrayed our tradition.

"Anyway, she tried to settle things down, but then some bloke used the word mudblood and she just hit the roof. She ordered him to get out, but he wouldn't go, and then some other bloke takes offense at something or another and gets involved and soon there are like ten people arguing." Lucas was having trouble telling the story, he was laughing so hard. "And then the first bloke gets up and punches his friend because he's so drunk and the whole place was brawling in two minutes."

We all laughed, more than I've laughed since our last retreat. We swapped more stories, and everything was back to normal. No Nott, no Slut Incident, no glares between me and Lucas. And maybe it wasn't perfect, but it sure as hell was close.

The next morning, the perfection was gone. I had a horrible hangover, one that even the Hangover Potion Lucas had brought couldn't completely cure. And then Griffin greeted me at breakfast with perhaps the worst news I had heard in my life. "There's a letter from your parents."

"Chuck it in the fire," I said. My head was pounding and the sight of Nott's face just aggravated me more.

"Conrad…" Griffin said hesitantly. "Don't you think you ought to open it?" The "You did run away from home after hexing a muggle girl" was as clear as if he had actually said it.

I groaned. "Fine. Give it here." It was short, simple, and to the point.

_Carol Jones was just released from the Intensive Care Unit of the Royal London Hospital. As far as the rest of the world is concerned, she was mugged on her morning jog and given a severe concussion. You will return home as soon as your retreat is over and will then spend the remainder of your summer vacation at the Lucas household. If you do not behave yourself there or choose not to come home, the Ministry will be notified of your actions. They will be far less lenient than we are._

I handed it to Griffin, who grimaced. "Tough luck, mate."

"What?" Paule asked as she came in.

"I have to spend the rest of the summer at the Lucas house," I moaned. "Oh my Merlin I am going to go mad." I banged my head on the table.

"What's going on here?" Nott asked. I ignored her and just did my best to melt into the wood.

A week at the Lucas'. A week with that dimwitted muggle woman (who wasn't even elated to me!) her brother, and worst of all – his daughter, Abigail.

It was safe to say that Abigail Lucas was the bane of my existence. She was a stuck-up, know-it-all prig who went around preaching about kindness and stuff. Worst of all, she was my cousin. What any relative of mine saw in that muggle idiot is beyond me. Needless to say, I didn't emphasize the relationship at school.

A couple days later, I still couldn't believe my bad luck. I threw myself into the retreat, doing everything I could to relish the freedom while I had it. I even started talking to Lucas again, though I couldn't quite bring myself to deal with Nott. For the most part she just stayed out of my way. And for those last few days, I was happy.

Then, of course, it was over. The world just kind of fucking hated me those days. My mother didn't say anything to me when I arrived at their – not mine, it was never mine and I swore to myself that day that I would never live in that house again – house. My father, on the other hand, treated me to a long rant about how I was a disgrace to the family and how he would disown me if I ever did anything like that again. At least, that's what I assumed it was about. I didn't actually listen to a word of it.

Dinner with my parents at the Lucas' was painful, to say the least. No one said much. Mr. Lucas – my dear Uncle Horace – did his best to keep a conversation going, but it was a bit of a lost cause. I certainly wasn't going to help him out. My mother tried on occasion, but what is there to talk about in a muggle life?

Abigail spent the entire dinner shooting daggers at me. Merlin's beard, that girl is psycho. Thankfully, other than the death glares, she left me alone. After dinner, I was able to lock myself in my room, where I promptly sat down and began to write a long ranting letter to Griffin. But of course my parents had taken away my owl, so I had nothing to send it with. There was no help for it. I was going to have to talk to someone.

I tried Abigail's Aunt Tessa first. She's insane, even for a muggle. She has some mental disorder or something where she can't stop freaking out about thing. I don't even know. It's not normal. She was no help. When I asked if I could borrow an owl, she looked at me like I was the crazy one.

Mr. Lucas was out at work so the only other person in the house was Abigail. I groaned and went in search of her.

I found her in some obscure corner of their house. How a house that small managed to have so many nooks and crannies was beyond me. It probably had something to do with the fact that the rooms were all ridiculously small. My bedroom barely even had room for my bed. It was also all pink. Apparently it was Abigail's sister's room. I didn't know Sarah very well, but Abigail seemed to worship the ground she walked on so I doubted I would like her all that much.

When I finally found Abigail, she was tucked in a window seat, reading, of course. She was always reading. Yet another thing about her that made absolutely no sense. This was some huge volume, probably on the history of the Elf Wars or some other such nonsense.

"Where's your owl?" I asked her.

She didn't even look up. "Why?"

I rolled my eyes. "I need to send a letter." Duh.

She looked up at me, her black eyes as emotionless as ever. I swear, some days I thought she was a robot. "Use your own owl."

"I don't have one." Why else would I be asking to use her owl?

"Well, you can't use mine. She's out." She returned to her book.

"Then how the hell am I supposed to send my letter?" I demanded.

"It's called a post office. Three blocks to the right, on your left."

"You want me to use a muggle post office?" I scoffed at the very idea. "I'm not sending a letter to a muggle."

She didn't even look up as she left the room, leaving me hanging. Who the hell did that girl think she was?

By the end of the week, I had had enough. My parents had sent me to the Lucas house in order to kill me, I was sure of it. Unlike my parents, Abigail was very good at security spells, as I found out on the third or fourth night I tried to sneak out. The first few nights had worked fine, but I spent the entirety of that night caught in a net, hanging from the ceiling of the living room. That bitch didn't even have the decency to admit she'd set up the spell.

It wasn't just that I couldn't leave the house at night . I could have (possibly) dealt with staying inside all day, every day. But the occupants of said house were driving me insane. My darling Uncle Horace was almost always at work, but it seemed that "Aunt Tessa" (as she had forced me to call her) never left it. She was constantly getting in my way, asking me all sorts of obnoxious questions. "How do you like school?" "How are your friends doing without you to entertain them?" "Do you like pie?"

And Abigail. Holy Merlin, Abigail. We couldn't be in the same room for more than five minutes without coming to blows. It got to the point that when I entered the room, she would leave it. I took to following her around, just to have some company. Also, annoying Abigail is basically my mission in life.

"And where have you been all afternoon?" I asked her one day as she asked her one day as she came in the door.

"Diagon Alley," she said shortly as she hung up her umbrella.

"With who?" I asked, following her as she made her way towards her room.

"None of your business," she shot back.

"Oooooh. Was it a _boy_?"

"No."

"Aw, the ickle Abby-kins is embarrassed."

"Shut it."

"Now that's not very nice."

She whirled on me suddenly. "You know what isn't very nice? Coming home one day to find that your jerk cousin has invaded your house. So unless you want me to cut your throat, you'll stay out of my way, understand?"

I just laughed. It was truly pathetic, how she thought she stood a chance against me. "You can't even use magic outside of school," I said. "You're only sixteen."

She just smiled, a twisted sort of grimace. "Try me."

Later that week, on my last day in that prison, I caught her in a dress. Abigail. In a dress. The very idea is laughable. Of course, it was a prude dress, with a neckline almost to her neck and a skirt that fell past her knees. But it was still a dress.

"What the hell are you wearing that for?" I asked her.

She barely glanced at me. "Why do you care?"

"Cause there's nothing else to care about in this damn place. Where are you going, all dressed up?"

"If you must know, there's a party tonight."

"You? At a party?" I laughed. She flushed ever so slightly, which just made me laugh harder. Then I realized what she had said. "A party? Where?"

"It's for sixth years," she said.

"Where is it?" My wand was out of my pocket and pointing at her before I had finished the question.

She looked at me calmly, but I could see the fear in her eyes. "Nick Davies' house. You don't know him."

I grinned. "Doesn't matter." I was going to go get drunk.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Still not JKR.

* * *

_Bang. Bang. Bang._

I opened my eyes and groaned. The small amount of light shining in from the window was blinding. I squeezed my eyes shut and attempted to return to sleep.

_Bang. Bang. Bang._

What was that? I got my answer when my door banged open. Squinting, I saw Abigail standing in the doorway. "Whaddaya want?" I moaned.

"It's ten o'clock," she informed me in an annoyingly perky voice. "We're leaving in half an hour, with or without you. So I suggest you sober up and get going."

I groaned. Was she really going to do this? Now? I managed to roll over so my face was buried in my pillow. She went away and I fell back asleep.

It only felt like a moment later that my covers were being pulled off the bed. I started up, cursing my pounding head. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Abigail didn't even condescend to look at me. "Aunt Tess told me to strip your bed. So I am."

"What?" I squinted at the clock. The electronic numbers blinked mockingly back at me. 10:34. I squeezed my eyes shut.

"Get off," Abigail told me. I ignored her. A moment later, I was tumbling off the bed.

"What the FUCK?" I scrambled to my feet, automatically reaching for my wand. I slipped as I did and hit the ground again with a thud.

"I warned you," Abigail said, going around me and collecting my sheets. "We're leaving in five minutes; you'd better get moving if you want a ride to the station."

"Apparate," I managed to say as she walked out of the room.

I groaned and slid back down so I was lying on the floor. I needed some Hangover Potion, quick. I managed to wave my wand and summon some from my bag. My hands shook as I opened the bottle and glugged down the entire thing.

With a groan, I let my head fall back and waited for the potion to take effect. It took a couple of minutes, but eventually I was able to stumble to my feet. I made my way to the bathroom, where I ran into Abigail again.

"Two minutes," she said as she left the room.

"I'll just apparate!" I hollered after her, then winced at the loud noise. Hangover potions could only do so much.

The clocks in the Lucas household read 11:53 when I apparated away. I had never been so glad to see the backside of a house before. Merlin, I think I hated that place more than I hated my parents' house.

Platform 9 3/4 was crowded as always when I arrived. Parents and little brats ran around, frantically shoving trunks and pets and books at the poor bastards boarding the train. I smirked, more glad than ever that my parents couldn't care less about what I was doing. If it weren't for my friends, I probably wouldn't bother with school.

Speaking of my friends, where the hell were they? I looked around and saw Lucas talking with Nott. She didn't look pleased. I grinned. Thank Merlin she was out of our hair now.

On the other side of the platform I saw Griffin talking with Paule. I made my way over to them, but some blasted midget got in my way and by the time I got to them their conversation had been hijacked by Cook and one of the Woods. I could never tell them apart. I hid. They were the last people I needed to deal with today.

As soon as the coast was clear, I descended on Griffin and Paule. "So you're mates with Cook now?" I asked Griffin with a grin.

"Eff off," he said. "Of course not."

"Jeez, Conrad," Paule said, sniggering as she dragged us onto the train. "Don't make fun of him. He's in luuuuuuv."

"Shut up," Griffin muttered as he boarded.

"Oi," I said, gesturing to my trunk. "A little help?"

Paule just grinned and twirled her wand. "Magic, remember? It's even legal."

"We've been legal for almost a year," Griffin pointed out.

Paule brushed that aside. "C'mon, we've got to get a compartment."

"I have to go to the prefect's meeting," Griffin reminded us as we made our way down the corridor.

"Oh, yeah," I said with a laugh. "You and all the goody-two shoes."

"You've got time," Paule said. "At least help us find a compartment first."

Griffin groaned. "There," he said, pointing to a compartment at random. "They're practically all empty."

We had just gotten settled and Griffin had just left when Lucas came in. He shut the compartment door with a bang and collapsed on the seat. "Merlin's beard, I swear Nott's going to be the death of me."

I laughed. "Dumped her already?"

He nodded. "She was getting clingy."

"Did she actually think she was more than a fling?" Paule asked.

"Who knows?" Lucas said, leaning back onto the seat. "She's gone, that's all that matters."

The train's whistle blew. It was a deafening noise. "Which of you idiots chose the compartment at the front of the train?" Lucas demanded as we started to move.

"Griffin," Paule and I said in unison.

"Where is he, anyway?" Lucas asked.

"Prefect's meeting," Paule said.

Lucas cringed. "Poor bloke. I heard Cook's Head Boy this year."

"Cook?" I repeated. "The Ravenclaw keeper?"

"Yeah."

I cringed. "Griffin's going to be bored to death."

Paule laughed. "Well, this is the last year we'll have to deal with him. Can you believe we're seventh years?"

"Oh, yeah," Lucas said with a grin. "Merlin's beard, I can't wait to get out of here."

"Easy for you to say," I said. "You're practically guaranteed a job at the Ministry. Where am I supposed to go when we graduate? Back to my parent's house?"

'Or you might just have to get a job like the rest of us," Paule said. "Honestly, suck it up. It's not like your parents won't support you."

"I don't want to be reliant on them," I said, wrinkling my nose at the very thought. The last thing I needed was to be dependent on my parents. They would make me do something stupid, like become a healer or something. My dad was always going on about how great healers were.

"So get a job," Lucas said.

"Yeah, but what?" I asked. "You lot are lucky. You already know what you want to do."

"You'll find something," Paule said. "You've got an entire school year to figure it out."

"An entire year where we're top of the school," Lucas said, a grin spreading across his face. "We're untouchable."

"Congrats on making Quidditch Captain, by the way," Paule said, nodding towards the badge resting on my bag. "I told you you would."

"Any plans?" Lucas asked. I shrugged.

"We need another beater."

"Merlin's beard, I know," Lucas said, groaning. "Pick someone decent, will you? Macnair was a pain to work with."

"No one who tried out last year was any good," I said. "I swear, these kids who think they can fly..."

"The team's going to fall apart without you lot," Paule said. "I mean, there's no one on the team younger than fifth year now."

"Their problem," I said. "But we're going to win that cup this year, I can feel it."

"Just like you felt it last year?" Lucas asked, raising an eyebrow. "You know, when we lost by about a thousand points?"

I dismissed that with a wave of the hand. "Nott was a lousy captain."

"Avery's going to be furious that you're captain," Lucas said. We all stiffened at the sound of her name. I decided to let it pass without reminding him again how stupid he was to bring her to our retreat.

"She and her brother never got along," Paule said, doing her best to smooth the awkward silence over. "You remember that time in fifth year?"

And then we were off, falling easily back into our school-year routines. We talked about quidditch and classes, people we liked and people we hated, the past and the future. We seethed over injustices and laughed at others' mistakes.

"Do you think the prefects' meeting is over yet?" I asked. "What do you say we go collect Griffin?"

"Sure," Lucas said."

We arrived at the prefect's compartment just as Cook was finally wrapping up. "Is that August?" Paule asked, pointing to the girl by his side. "McGonagall made _her_head girl?"

Lucas laughed. "She won't be able to keep control if her life depends on it."

There was a burst of noise as the prefects were released. We were nearly trampled by a flood of fifth years before Griffin meandered out. "Thank Merlin that's over."

"That bad, huh?" Paule asked with a grin.

"He just kept talking, and talking, and talking, and talking," Griffin complained. "I don't know how I'm going to survive the rest of the year."

"Don't worry," I said, clapping him on the back. "We'll hex him for you, if you like."

"Speaking of hexing..." Lucas said, pointing. I turned to see Abigail meandering down a corridor. "How was staying with the muggles?"

I groaned. "Don't get me started. They're bloody mad, all of them."

"Well, you don't have to deal with them any more," Griffin said. "Let's get back to the compartment."

I was still staring at Abigail. "Anyone fancy a quick detour?"

"I'm in," Lucas said, shrugging. "It's not like there's anything better to do."

Paule groaned. "Just make sure none of the prefects see you."

We set off after Abigail, waiting until she was in a deserted stretch of the corridor. "Well, well, well, what do we have here?"

She whirled, and I smirked at the look on her face. "The mudblood," Lucas sneered. He overuses that word. I mean, the last time anyone thought that was an insult was like during the Second Wizarding War. Now they're all, "I'm a mudblood and proud of it!" It's so much easier to just call Abigail a bitch (which she totally is - I mean, no one can argue about that).

"Halfblood, actually," she said. See? I told you she'd argue back.

I stepped in before Lucas gave her any more openings. "Did you hear what she did to me this morning?" I asked the others with a grin. I loved this part, where her fear became almost tangible. She wouldn't fight; she would have to be suicidal to go up against the four of us. I could do anything and she could do nothing. "She threw me out of my bed. Maybe you ought to be thrown out of bed, see how you like it," I told her. I still had a bruise on my hip from what she had done that morning. "Hold her down," I told Paule, an idea forming in my mind. "As a tribute to her lovely father, who was oh-so nice to me while I was staying with them" - by which I meant that he stayed out of my hair and wasn't too disgustingly pathetic - "we're going to do this the muggle way."

Paule waved her wand and a bubble formed around Abigail. My grin grew. That bubble had never been a favorite of mine; it made it so they couldn't leave or fight, and where was the fun in that? But with Abigail, it didn't matter. She never fought, not after the first few moments. It was soothing, in a way, to be going through the motions again, following our old routine. This was how it should be, with me standing over her as she screwed up her face in fear.

One fist shot out, then the other. Stupid as muggles were, there was something to be said for not using a wand. It was so much more...personal, somehow.

A few minutes later, my concentration was broken by Griffin saying, "Conrad, I think someone's coming."

I nodded and turned away. My knuckles were sore, but my heart was racing and my mind was soaring. "Let's go."

"Did you hear about what happened to McDonald over the summer?" Paule asked as we walked away. "Lucas says he almost got arrested."

"Really?" A Gryffindor, getting arrested? Why, it was practically unheard of. "What'd he do?"

"Magic in front of muggles," Lucas said. "But of course he got out of it; his dad's in the Ministry."

Typical Gryffindor. Do something stupid, get pulled out of it by Daddy. Honestly, using magic in front of muggles is like the easiest thing there is. But that's a Gryffindor for you.

The rest of the ride passed quickly, as it always did. All too soon the train was pulling up at the Hogsmeade station. We got into the horseless carriages and, as always, the ride to the castle couldn't go fast enough. It felt like hours until we finally were pulling up in front of the castle. I had to smile as we descended from the carriage. Nine whole months until I had to go home again. You know, for all its flaws, there was really something to be said for Hogwarts.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Not JKR.

* * *

The next morning, I was feeling far less benevolent towards Hogwarts. I was woken at six by a draught. Blasted underground common room. I threw on some clothes and went upstairs to the Great Hall. Professor Vanity was already there, passing out schedules. She was your typical ice-cold bitch, but she did have some sense of house pride. Not the worst teacher here - not by a long shot - but I was glad I didn't have her anymore. Potions was such a waste of time.

"I'm counting on you to win us that cup this year," she told me as she handed me my schedule. "Our showing last year was dismal."

"I'll do my best," I said. I was determined to get the team whipped into shape this year. We'd have the first tryouts, the longest practices, the best games. There was no way we weren't winning that cup.

I spent most of breakfast thinking up plans for quidditch. A few minutes before the bell rang, I went back upstairs to get my stuff. Then I headed to my first class of the day, divination, which also happened to be my favorite. The professor, Vane, was hot. She also took her job very seriously. Had a crystal ball and gauzy robes and everything. She even tried to get us to call her Cheryl, because "the Inner Eye does not distinguish between those who are learning our trade and those who already possess that knowledge." It was one of those brilliant classes where you could just sleep or ogle the professor. Those robes of hers didn't cover much.

Not many people took NEWT level divination. Last year, it had been the only class worth going to. Lucas thought it was stupid, but the blokes in there were decent enough. Not worth talking to, obviously, but not too terrible. But a new year meant new midgets invading the classroom. In this case, sixth years. More specifically, one sixth year. One of those academic-minded types that took everything too seriously and were absolutely convinced that they were better than everyone else, with scientific proof to back them up. He kept asking Vane questions and waking all of us up. Boy, he was a real bastard.

The Bastard aside, the rest of the day sucked. I wasn't expecting anything better. They fed us the usual start-of-year crap and assigned a mountain of homework that no one would ever do.

"I don't even know why I bothered coming back this year," I grumbled as we made our way back from dinner the next Monday. We had stayed in the Great Hall until they kicked us out that night, just talking and stuffing ourselves with dessert. "It's just the same shit, over and over again."

"You need NEWTS to graduate," Paule pointed out.

"Yeah," Lucas said, "but you don't need to graduate to get a proper job."

"It sure helps," Griffin said.

"Look at all those Weasleys," I said. "They're supposed to be our role models, right? Cause they saved the world and all? Half of them never even graduated."

"Spinnet swears that Coach Weasley's dad ditched halfway through his seventh year," Lucas said. "Just jumped on his broom and flew out of here."

"Since when do you talk to Spinnet?" Paule demanded.

Lucas smirked. "Just checking out the competition."

"Speaking of which, when are tryouts?" Griffin asked.

"I was thinking Saturday," I said. "I don't want any lazy arses showing up like last year."

"Are you keeping the rest of the team?" Lucas asked.

"Most of it, I think," I said. "Except for you two, of course. You're absolute rubbish - I won't have you ruining our chances." They laughed and I grinned.

"Why don't you try out?" Griffin asked Paule. "You'd probably make it."

"No, thank you," she scoffed. "There is no way I'm risking my neck like that."

"Risking your neck?" I spluttered. "This is quidditch we're talking about!"

She laughed, throwing an arm around my shoulder. "Aw, is the poor little Conrad getting offended because the big bad Paule insulted his favorite sport?"

"Fuck off," I said, shoving her arm off of me, but I was grinning. "You were blaspheming against quidditch!"

Still laughing, we entered the Slytherin Common room and headed for our favorite seats, a set of chairs by the fireplace. It was the only spot in the entire bloody common room that wasn't freezing. Some second years were sitting there, but it only took a few quick glares for them to vacate our places.

Paule sat down with a thump. I raised an eyebrow. "What would your mother say about such unladylike behavior?"

"To hell with my mother," Paule said. "She'll live."

"Is she still trying to get you to go out with Liam Yaxley?" Lucas asked.

Paule rolled her eyes. "Yeah. I'm telling you, it's disgusting. He's starting to go bald."

Through our laughter, I could hear some sixth years nearby talking. "So stupid," Edward Harper was saying.

"Yeah, who does she think she is?" Victor Mulciber asked. "Coming in here like that?"

"I wonder what she was trying to do," Markus Parkinson mused.

"Probably came to see her cousin," Harper said. His voice dropped and I saw his eyes flicker to me. "You know, Warrington?"

"He's her cousin?" Parkinson asked. Wait, my cousin? Abigail? What the hell had she been up to?

I stood up, cutting Lucas off in the middle of whatever it was he had been saying, and went over to where the sixth years were talking. "What did she do?" I asked. They jumped when they saw me, clearly expecting that I was there to beat them up for trash-talking my cousin. As if I cared what they said about her. She deserved it all and more. Stupid stuck up mudblood brat.

"She, er," Parkinson stuttered. He was obviously going to be no help. I turned to Harper, who seemed to be the least idiotic of the lot.

"She was caught trying to sneak in here," he said, not meeting my eyes. I grinned. Abigail was in trouble? Brilliant. Then my brain registered what he had said.

"She what?" Griffin said from behind me. "Who?"

"Abigail," I said, my mind whirling.

"Your cousin Abigail?" Paule said. "Huh. Why would she do that?"

"Little bitch," Lucas said mildly. "She was probably here to get back at you."

The sixth years were looking a little too interested in what we were saying, so I went back to my seat and the others followed. "She's never done that before," I said. "Why start now?"

"Yes, she has," Griffin said. "Charms OWL, remember?"

"Oh, yeah," Paule said, a grin slipping over her face. "That was priceless."

"Who's side are you on?" I demanded.

She just laughed. "Conrad, you threw up in the middle of the exam, all over the president of the International Charms Association. It was pretty funny."

"Just push her down one more time and she won't dare try anything," Lucas said confidently. "Looks like she got squashed pretty hard tonight. Can you imagine? The perfect little prefect caught trying to sneak into another common room."

"Or she just might get more mad," Griffin said. "Who knows how her mind works? Maybe you should let up for a while."

"Nah," I said. "That's what she wants. Lucas is right. Just squash her one more time, and she won't even think about revenge."

I bided my time. I knew better than to go straight after her, and besides, I had more important things to think about than my bitch of a cousin. I mean, this was my last year of school! Unfortunately, my friends seemed to have forgotten that.

"Paule!" I descended on her with relief. "Thank Merlin. I was bored to death up in the dorm. Griffin and Lucas have gone missing and the others were driving me to an early grave."

She looked up from her homework and sighed. "You're such a drama queen."

"Me?" I made a face as I dropped into the seat next to her. "I'm heartbroken you think so little of me."

"And my point is made," she said. We sat in companionable silence for a moment until she said, "Have you heard the rumor Harper's spreading?"

"About Blackwell?" I asked. She nodded. "Yeah. It's pretty pathetic. I mean, really. A Hufflepuff? She can't be that desperate."

"Oh, but she is," Paule said. "Remember when she was dating Lucas? She clung to him like a barnacle."

"Right," I said, slowly recalling that time. "Last winter, right?"

"Yeah. She's the one he dumped because he didn't want to buy her a Christmas present."

I laughed. That was Lucas for you. Rolling in gold and not willing to spend a bit of it. I spotted Griffin coming in and called him over.

"I was just talking to Paule about what Eddie Harper said yesterday," I told him.

"Which is?" he asked, sitting down next to me.

Paule raised an eyebrow. "You don't know?

"Blackwell was kissing some sixth year Hufflepuff."

"David Lumier," I said. I didn't know him very well (I tended to try to avoid sixth years – they were mostly bastards) but I had a vague idea that Professor Jordon had made Lucas tutor his little sister for detention at one point. Speaking of him… "Where's Lucas, by the way?"

"No idea," Paule said. "He mentioned some girl."

"Of course," I said, rolling my eyes. There was always a girl with Lucas.

"Anyway," Paule said, returning to the matter at hand, "what are we going to do about it?"

"Well, is it true?" Griffin asked. I hadn't thought of that.

"That's a good point," I said appreciatively. Good old Griffin. "We all know how sketchy Harper is." I glanced around the room, half hoping he'd heard me. If he was spreading false rumors and getting my hopes up…

"I asked Phoebe because she's friends with Blackwell," Paule said, "and she said that Blackwell had sneaked out the night before while the rest of us were asleep."

"You didn't notice?" I asked. How the hell did we end up being the last ones to hear about this? "I thought you were the Queen of Deception and nothing goes unnoticed within your dormitory?"

"Oh, shut up," she said, tossing me an annoyed glance. "I'm assuming it must be true." Her gaze turned reflective. "She's strange, that one. She never has anything nice to say about us."

I snorted. "Maybe it's because you're a total bitch to her." Because let's face it, Paule was a bitch to a lot of people.

"I'm sure that's a factor," Paule said, dismissing the complaint with a wave of the hand. "But I was only a bitch because she was one first." Yeah, right.

"So what are we going to do?" I asked, leaning forward in anticipation. This was the best part. Someone had to keep Slytherin pure, and we were just the ones to do it. The place could go to hell for all I cared once we were out of there, but if I was going to be a Slytherin there were going to be standards, dammit.

"We could tell everyone," Griffin suggested.

"Harper's already done that," I said. Which was another problem. Harper had a history of spreading gossip. I made a mental note to watch him.

"Well, I don't know," Griffin said, sounding mildly put out. Aw, the poor wittle Griffin. I'd make it up to him next time. "You know I'm not creative."

"Can we write 'Justice Blackwell is a Hufflepuff whore' across the wall in the entrance hall?" Paule asked.

I grinned. Now that was an idea. "I love it," I proclaimed. "Tonight, then?" They nodded and my smirk grew wider. This was going to be fun.

That night, long after everyone else was asleep, we snuck out of the Slytherin common room and made our way to the Great Hall. Thanks to Griffin, who had the prefect's schedule, we didn't run into anyone.

"Here, do you think?" Paule asked, pausing in the Entrance Hallway.

"Nah," Lucas said. "We want it to be where everyone can see it."

"Won't the teachers take it down?" Griffin asked.

I laughed. "They'll try. I found this brilliant new spell - they won't be able to break it."

"Are you sure?" Lucas asked.

"Positive," I said. It was really an amazing spell.

"How about here?" Paule asked, looking at the wall next to the entrance to the Great Hall. "Nice and big."

"Looks good to me," I said and drew my wand.

"What's the incantation?" Griffin asked.

"Flamascribe," I said, going to reach for my wand.

"No, no, no," Paule said. "Let me do it. Your handwriting is horrible." I shrugged and stepped down.

"How does it work?" Griffin asked. "The last thing we want is someone to see it early and take it down."

"That's the thing," I said with a grin. "Only the wand that put it up can take it down."

"Brilliant," Lucas said. "Where'd you find it?"

"Restricted Section," I said. "They've actually got a hell of a lot of useful stuff in there, if you know where to look."

"There," Paule said, stepping back from her work. The words glistened in the darkness of the hallway. JUSTICE BLACKWELL IS A HUFFLEPUFF WHORE. The entire school would see it.

"Perfect," Lucas said, a smile spreading across his face.

"Just make sure it's someone good," Lucas told me Saturday night as we prepared for tryouts the next day. "I don't care about anything else, just make it someone I can work with. I don't want to have to do all the work."

"Course not," I said. "Don't worry so much. We'll find someone."

"But don't make them too young," he said. "The last thing we need is a wimpy second year who's never flown before."

"Do you think I'm stupid?" I demanded. "Unless some genius shows up, I'm not going younger than fourth year."

"Just make it someone good," he said again, and we fell silent. I don't know what he was thinking, but my mind was speeding forward, through each quidditch match (all of which we won, of course) to the end of the year, when McGonagall presented me with the quidditch cup. There wasn't a speck of doubt in my mind that we would win. After all, we had me as captain. What could go wrong?

I woke bright and early the next morning, hyped up for tryouts. Too impatient to wait for Griffin and Lucas, I threw my pillow in their general direction and hissed, "I'm going down." They'd come when they were ready.

After a quick breakfast, I made my way down to the quidditch pitch to set up. It was your classic September day, cool with a bit of a breeze. Ideal flying conditions. I frowned at the sky. It would have been easier to pick out the weaker fliers in bad weather.

I hauled out the equipment in about five seconds flat and then grabbed my broom. It was a thing of beauty. My dad had got it for me last Christmas in a fit of paternal instinct. It was a Firebolt 360, the fastest model on the market. I swung my leg over it and took off, shooting up and up until I was on top of the world. Stabilizing, I looked down to see all of Hogwarts, from Hogsmeade to the Forbidden Forest. This is what it must have looked like, I thought, when Voldemort flew down to Dumbledore's grave. I could see the little white speck off to the side. We had all heard the stories, of course; how he was the best headmaster Hogwarts had ever known, etc, etc, etc. He sounded like an old coot, if you asked me.

The view was amazing. I could practically feel the power flowing through me from this height. No wonder Voldemort wanted to take over the world. I would, too, if I could feel like this all the time.

A shout from below recalled me. It was Lucas, a tiny figure on his broom but growing quickly. I flew down to meet him, irrationally possessive of the height I had attained. "Are you mad, going up that high without a bubble head charm?" he demanded when I reached him. "I'm getting light headed up here! You could have fainted, and then I'd have to be captain."

"Nah," I said, honestly surprised by the thought. Sure, I had been high, but not enough that I was running out of air. Or maybe that was what had made it so magical. "We would have made Griffin captain."

"Griffin?" he said with a laugh as we landed. "I'd like to see him try."

"What about me?" Griffin asked, coming out of the locker rooms clutching his broom.

"Lucas has no faith in your abilities," I informed him gravely, earning a smack from Lucas.

"So, Captain," he said with a grin, "What are we doing?"

"Finding someone who can fly," I said. "They don't have to be huge, but they need to be strong. And fast - I refuse to have someone who can't keep up."

"Another girl would be nice." I whirled to see Tara Flint, Griffin's little sister, standing there. She was a 5th year and annoying as hell.

"We already have two girls," I said. "That's more than most teams. Besides, girls aren't strong enough to be beaters."

"I'm plenty strong," she protested.

"You try out for beater, then," Griffin said. She stuck her tongue out at him.

We chatted mindlessly as we waited for the rest of the team to turn up. Numair Salmalin was the next one to arrive. He was the youngest player on our team - only a 4th year - but was a bloody good chaser. Almost as good as me and Griffin. I knew him pretty well by this point - he'd been on the team since his second year. Nott was the last one to show. She glared at me as she approached. Merlin's beard, that girl knew how to hold a grudge.

"All right," I said once we were all assembled. "So. These tryouts are mainly to find a new beater, but I'm also going to be watching all of you. If we're going to win the cup this year - which we are - we're going to need the best team possible. Now, I know how all of you fly and at this moment there's no one I'm planning on kicking off, but if someone better shows up I'll consider them. So no slacking off. Did you practice this summer?"

There was a murmur of "Yes"s. I eyed them all, a tad surprised. I knew Griffin and Lucas had practiced, but I was doubtful about some of the others. Sure enough, as I glared at them, Nott and Flint Jr shook their heads guiltily.

"You're going to regret it," I told them. "Practices start tomorrow at six in the morning. We also have the field on Wednesdays at seven pm. Slytherin hasn't won the quidditch cup in far too long. I intend to remedy that." I glanced over at the stands, where about a dozen kids sat with their brooms. They weren't a very promising looking lot. "Let's go," I said, turning back to my team.

Half an hour later, I closed my eyes and looked skywards for patience. They were bad. All of them. Only about half of them could fly in a straight line, for starters, and of those, two wouldn't go higher than about twenty feet.

"Merlin's beard," Lucas said from beside me. "Did we look that pathetic when we tried out?"

"I don't think that's possible," I said, shielding my eyes as I watched those who could fly do laps around the pitch. "Do you know any of them?"

"I think the one in blue is Jedidiah Burke," Lucas said, peering at them. "And the one in red is Edward Harper, isn't it? He's a git, don't pick him."

"Definitely not," I agreed. "He's not that good anyway." I called those who were left over and asked them to introduce themselves. Those Lucas hadn't known were Misty Anders, a 4th year, and some scrawny third year whose name I instantly forgot. Anders was tall for her age with curly dark hair and an arrogant air. Burke was a fifth year who was one of those blokes who did every extra-curricular the school offered. He was a bit of a prat, but I liked him best out of the lot.

I had them go out with Lucas and some of the others to hit some bludgers around as Griffin and I watched. "What do you think?" I asked him.

"Burke's probably the best choice," he said, "But I think I heard someone say that he did a lot of other stuff. He may not be able to make practices."

I groaned. "I won't take him if he can't make practices. That's the entire point of quidditch. If he can't commit he shouldn't be here."

"I guess Anders might work," he said, "with a lot of training."

"Well, this sucks," Nott said from behind us. "Are you sure you told people they were trying out for quidditch, not the ballet?"

"I saw him post the announcement myself," Griffin said.

"Go gripe at them," I told her. "Take Salmalin's place." He was the one they were aiming bludgers at, an occupational hazard of being the youngest on the team.

Her glare intensified and she muttered something that sounded a lot like, "Fuck off," but she grabbed her broom and did as I said. I grinned. This captaincy thing was bloody brilliant.

My mood darkened as my eyes returned to the pitch. If what Griffin said about Burke was true, we were in trouble. Anders had a relatively good arm and was a good flier, but she couldn't aim worth shit. And while the bludgers tended to go where Scrawny Kid wanted them, he was so weak it didn't do much good.

I blew my whistle and called Burke over. "Yeah," he said when I asked him about his schedule. "I'm pretty busy."

"Would you be able to make practices consistently?" I asked.

He shrugged. "I might have to miss one or two. We have a lot of Charms club meetings around our tournaments. You understand; it's the same with quidditch."

I smiled tightly and thanked him. Charms Club. Merlin, what a suck up. Yeah, definitely not. I blew my whistle and called the rest of my team over. "Okay," I said. "The way I see it, we've got three options. First, we can just give up now and only have one beater for the rest of the year. Second, we can take Burke and deal with the fact that we'll only have one beater for most of the year. Or third, we could take Anders and do our best to whip her into shape."

"The first sounds good to me," Lucas said with a grin. Flint Junior rolled her eyes.

"Concentrate, will you?"

"I don't see why it matters," Nott said. "We're not going to win the cup anyway."

"Oi," I said sharply. "Keep talking like that and you'll be off the team."

She sneered. "What, are you going to replace me with Anders?" I was silent. Nott was a bitch, but she was also a decent keeper. I wouldn't be able to find a replacement easily. "Just accept the fact that no one in this house can play quidditch worth a damn and move on."

"Shut it, Nott," Lucas said. "You're not helping."

"Take Anders," Griffin recommended.

"Yeah," Tara said. "It's not like we have any other options."

I looked at Lucas, who shrugged. "Salmalin?" He shot a glance towards the stands and gave a noncommittal jerk of the head. "All right, then. Anders!" She looked up eagerly from the stands. "Practice starts tomorrow morning at six. Be there early."

"I made it?" she squealed. "Oh. My. Merlin!" I cast an amused glance towards the rest of the team, but inside I was praying this wasn't her usual behavior. There was nothing more annoying than a squealing girl.


End file.
